


Pawsitively Stylish

by c0cunt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dog groomer!Sasha, dog owners Marco and Jean, mildly pastel!Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is a regular at Sasha's grooming parlor, Marco is a newcomer.  They both have ideas of what the other's dog looks like, and are more than a bit surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pawsitively Stylish

   It’s Saturday, April 12th, almost 4:35pm when I started to head back to pick up Bowser from Sasha’s grooming parlor.  I only know the time because of that text; Sash also said to just hang onto the extra flyers I might have, since I’d been doing some advertising for her in exchange for Bowser’s grooming.  Not like many people will take flyers from someone with a smile as forced as mine (nor are most people going to approach a dude with bright pink hair bows), but that’s why telephone poles exist and why I brought a staple gun with me.  At least Sasha took my suggestion to hire someone to make her flyers this time, instead of giving me shitty construction paper scribbles like before.  But as I squinted at one of the light pink fliers (with Word Art used), it seemed more likely that she’d made these ones on her own as well.  Ah well, still better than the construction paper.

 

   Sasha’s parlor is kind of a hole-in-the-wall place, in a less popular shopping center, with a simple bright red sign stating “grooming” and a small standing signpost she plops outside in the mornings.  It’s the sort of shopping center where there had been a popular grocery store at one point, drawing attention to the smaller stores surrounding it, until the grocery store went out of business.  Nowadays, usually there’s only two or three cars at most parked in the giant lot in front.  It used to bug me that Sasha had chosen a place so out of the way for her groomers, but it must cost a lot less to rent here than in a more popular center.  Her little signpost is away as I finally cross the giant concrete wasteland of a parking lot, which means she’s probably closing early for the day again.  

 

   The large bundle of jingling bells that Sasha had strung up from the front door all the way through to the back of her building scream as I open the door, nearly smacking straight into a stranger that’s tapping their feet in an anxious manner.  I grumble out an apology, before swiftly sidestepping to peer through the cutout and see if Sash put Bowser in one of the crates that faces the entrance.  When I don’t see her, I sigh just as a hair dryer starts up, and curiously look at who my waiting room buddy is today.

 

   He at least seem decent enough, a kind face with dozens of freckles centered upon his cheeks.  I get the feeling that I could trust him, and when he looks up and sees me staring at him outright, he doesn’t seem to get defensive or offended.  He just smiles at me a bit, before looking at the clock on the wall and frowning slightly.  I guess he’s a new customer, and I can’t help but chuckle as I see his slight impatience.

 

   “You new to Sash’s grooming?” I ask, just to confirm my suspicions.  He startles slightly and but nods, and I can’t hold back an outright chuckle.  “I could tell, you’re looking at the clock like it’s offended you.  Sash tends to lose track of time when she works.”  I explain, leaning back against the counter.  I can vaguely hear a small yap, which I assume is Bowser, but could very well be this strangers dog.  

 

   “So I guess you come here often?”  He asks, and his voice is very nice in my humble opinion.  Not a harsh undertone in it, no gravelly noises that might out him as a smoker.  Smooth like silk, and I can’t stop from flushing the tiniest bit red as I nod at him.

   “Sasha’s an old friend, and I’ve been coming here since I got my little Bowser.”  I can feel my face falling from its normal scowl into the soft look that seems to be reserved for when I talk to/about Bowser (according to Sasha).  Waiting buddy smiles just a little bit more, and I can almost feel the word vomit starting to bubble its way up, wanting to keep this guy’s attention on me.  “What’s your dog’s name?” I ask quickly, rubbing my hands (when did they get so sweaty?) on my jeans.  Waiting buddy’s smile grows blindingly for a second, before turning much softer.

 

   “His name’s Candyfloss.”  Before I can laugh at how honestly stupid that name sounds, waiting buddy’s already holding his hands up in defeat with a slight laugh.  “My little brother named him when I brought him home from the shelter, and even when I tried to call him something different, he’d only respond to Candyfloss.”  I do laugh a little bit as well, but now I’m imagining in my mind’s eye a tiny fluffy thing like Bowser being cradled to this guy’s chest (which, if I do say so, seems to be a very nice chest).  Waiting buddy shrugs slightly, in a ‘what can you do’ sort of way, before asking “How did you get your dog?”.  At that point, the dryer that Sasha had been using falls silent, so now I don’t have to raise my voice to answer him.

 

   “She was actually supposed to be a gift,” I laugh, holding my hands up in defense when waiting buddy looks annoyed.  “See, my ma and I always wanted a dog, but my dad said no, so after their divorce, I got Bowser and was going to give her to ma, but I got too attached.”  I finish, remembering just how cute and tiny Bowser was the day I got her.  The breeder I had gone to see, Mr Leonhardt, was kind enough to hold onto one of the puppies from the litter closest to when their divorce was finalized, and it happened to be the smallest puppy with the most adorable facial expressions.  I was a goner the moment I saw Bowser, and it was a good thing that the apartment I had moved into allowed dogs.  I sighed again, leaning back to see if Bowser had been moved to one of the cages I could see, but no.  

 

   Waiting buddy’s eyebrows were still raised, but before he could ask anything, Sasha had shoved her way through the door from the back side of the parlor to grin at both of them.  “Hey Marco, do you want a bandanna for Candyfloss, or would you prefer bows?”  She asked, waving a bandanna and a small package of bows in waiting buddy’s direction.  Waiting buddy/Marco nodded at the bandanna, and Sasha turned to me and tapped the side of her face, mirroring where my own hair clips were.  I nodded, and she whisked herself back to the dogs, leaving me and Marco in silence.

 

   Now I was starting to get antsy, waiting on Sasha to get Bowser out.  I knew she’d stand nice and still like a good girl when Sasha puts her hair bows in, so it shouldn’t be long.  But seeing as Sasha came out and asked both of us at the same time what we’d prefer for our dogs, she was probably going to bring them out at the same time.  Who knows how Marco’s ‘Candyfloss’ reacts to getting a bandanna?  All I could hear from the back was Sasha’s happy humming, and now my impatient foot tapping.  Why couldn’t Sasha have waited until she was this close to being done to text me?  Maybe she thought she’d be done sooner...I perked up when I heard Sasha call “all done” in a very singsong manner, and hurried to get the door for her.

 

   “They were both absolute angels,” Sasha squealed happily, bustling through with my little Bowser curled up against her hip (her little pink hair bows are pretty close in color to mine this time), and a...Small pony walking on her other side.  Jesus christ, did Sasha really groom a pony?  I didn’t hear the clipclop of hooves, so I guess...It had to be a dog?  Its giant head was level with Sasha’s chest, tongue lolling out of its mouth, and I swear its paws had to be the size of my own goddamn hand.  Bowser was extremely calm for being right next to this giant, I know that if I were her size I would’ve shat my pants already.  I looked up at Marco in slight disbelief, (his expression was mirroring my own) and we both asked incredulously “That’s your dog?”

 

   Sasha nearly keeled over with laughter at our faces, and I quickly scooped Bowser out of her grasp, Marco hurrying over to grab the leash of his dog as well.  “What even...Is that?”  I ask, slightly terrified of this giant dog.  Marco seems to bristle slightly, but he calmly says “Not entirely sure what breeds he is, but the vet thinks he’s a least part Anatolian Shepherd.”  He nods at Bowser, who is intent on climbing up to my face and probably biting at my hair clips, adding “When you said her name was Bowser, I kinda pictured...Something larger.”

 

   I can’t help a laugh now, with Sasha’s cackling fading as she heads into the back once again.  “Funny you should say that, I kinda pictured Candyfloss to be...Much smaller.”  His smile is super bright, toothpaste commercial bright, and I kinda surprise myself when I realize that I don’t want this to be the last of our interaction.  

   “Do you know any good places to eat around here?  I just moved here from Jinae, and could use some help…”  Marco asks softly, his grip on Candyfloss’s leash a bit tighter, even though the giant is calm as can be.  Bowser lets out a prissy little yap when I won’t let her get near my hair clips, and I try to match my smile to Marco’s as I nod.

 

   “Yeah, there’s surprisingly a bunch of places you can go with your dog, like there’s this great Italian place nearby…”  I lead us out, waving goodbye to Sasha (who has a knowing look on her face).  I have a good feeling in my chest, and butterflies in my gut.  Hopefully my good impressions on Marco and Candyfloss are right.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I put more effort into finding the perfect sort of dog for Candyfloss than I did in making this accurate to a grooming parlor.


End file.
